“Most mysteries have a way of eventually getting solved. The Thresher, the Bluefin, the Scorpion-the Navy never gave up until everyone was found.”
“We’re not repeating the act this time,” Cinana said grimly. “This is one we’ll never find.”
“Never say never.”
“The three tragedies you mentioned, Major occurred in the Atlantic. The Starbuck had the fatal misfortune of vanishing in the Pacific.” He paused to wipe his neck. “We have a saying in the Navy about ships lost out here. Those who lie deep in the Atlantic Sea Are recalled by shrines, wreaths, and poetry, But those who lie in the Pacific Sea Lie forgotten for all eternity.”
“But you have the position from Dupree’s message,” Pitt said. “With luck, your sonar should detect her within a week’s sweep of the area.”
“The sea doesn’t give up its secrets easily, Major.” Cinana set his empty glass on the bar. “Well, I must be going. I was supposed to meet someone, but apparently she stood me up.”
Pitt shook Cinana’s outstretched hand and grinned. “I know the feeling.”
“Good-bye, and good luck.”
“Same to you, Captain.”
Cinana turned and sidestepped through the crowd to the hotel lobby entrance and became lost in the mining sea of heads.
Pitt still hadn’t touched his drink. After Cinana’s departure, he sensed a maddening loneliness, despite the surrounding din of voices in the crowded room. Pitt had the urge to get very drunk. He wanted to forget the name Starbuck and concentrate on more important matters, such as picking up a vacationing secretary who had left all her sexual inhibitions back in Omaha, Nebraska. He downed his drink and ordered another.
He was just about ready to try out his soft-tongued affability when he became aware of the touch of two soft, feminine breasts pressing into his back, and a pair of slender white hands encircling his waist. He unhurriedly turned and found his eyes confronted by the impish face of Adrian Hunter.
“Hello, Dirk,” she murmured in a husky voice. “Need a drinking partner?”
“I might What’s in it for me?”
She tightened her hands around his waist. “We could go to my place, tune in the late, late movie, and take notes.”
“Can’t. Mother wants me home early.”
“Oh come now, lover, you wouldn’t deny an old friend an evening of scandalous behavior, would you?”
“That what old friends are for?” he said sarcastically. Her hands had moved downward and he pulled them away. “You should find yourself a new hobby. At the rate you indulge your fantasies, I’m surprised you haven’t been sold for scrap by now.”
“That’s an interesting thought,” she smiled at him. “I could always use the money. I wonder what I’d bring.”
“Probably the price of a well-used Edsel.”
She thrust out her chest and faked a pout. “You only hurt the one you love, so I’m told.”
Considering the exhaustive pace of her nightlife, Pitt thought she was still a damn good-looking woman. He remembered the soft feel of her body when he last made love to her. He also remembered that no matter how relentless his attack, nor how expert his technique he could never satisfy her.
“Not to change the subject of our stimulating conversation,” he said, “but I met your father for the first time today.”
He waited for a hint of surprise. There was none.
She seemed quite unconcerned. “Really? What did old Lord Nelson have to talk about?”
“For one thing, he didn’t care for the way I was dressed.”
“Don’t feel badly. He doesn’t care for the way I dress either.”
He took a sip from his Scotch and gazed at her over the top of the glass. “In your case, I can’t blame him. No man likes to see his daughter come off like a back alley hooker.”
She ignored his last remark; that her father had come face-to-face with but one of her many lovers, didn’t interest her at all. She wiggled onto the next bar stool and gazed at him with a seductive look burning in her eyes, the effect heightened by the long black hair winding around one shoulder. Her skin glowed like polished bronze under the dim lights of the cocktail lounge.
She whispered, “How about that drink?”